


What makes a family (and other moments in time)

by HelpMeImProcrastinating



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Family, Family Fluff, Fluff, Sibling Bonding, swear words for humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:42:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24392980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelpMeImProcrastinating/pseuds/HelpMeImProcrastinating
Summary: Superman has invulnerability, super strength and a ton of other powers. Batman is just a crazy rich guy in kevlar. But Bruce has something better than an adoring world or laser eyes, he has his family.Was inspired by halfmoonmagic and their work called Colony which is AMAZING. This is basically the same- a collection of one shots from prompts that made me think of the Batfam.-Disclamer this isn't gonna be 100 percent cannon or anything but I'll try my best to keep the main aspects of the characters legit
Comments: 14
Kudos: 72





	1. Street Fries

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Colony](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17470088) by [halfmoonmagic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfmoonmagic/pseuds/halfmoonmagic). 



> https://write-it-motherfuckers.tumblr.com/post/615695991661871104/person-a-whats-your-most-precious-memory  
> -got this prompt off tumblr

Jason Todd stumbled across the apartment building roof as the sun’s golden rays sunk behind Gotham’s skyline. He threw his helmet off and another bout of coughs shuddered through him. The world lurched beneath is feet- He was kneeling now. Gritting his teeth, he wretched onto the ground. 

Blood.

Fuck.

…

“Jaybird?” He didn’t know how long his face had been plastered to the gravel- but the sky was dark now.

“Oh, wow Jaybird.” The voice was closer now. Warm hands hauled him onto his back and he chuckled bitterly, or at least huffed. Figures the Gotham smog wouldn’t let him see the stars.  
“Hey its ok, it’s ok.” If he’d had the energy, he would have called that pitiful lie out for what it was. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you to the Batcave.”

Panic surged through him. “No,” he struggled out. “No.” Stronger this time. His eyes focused on Grayson’s face. Of course, it was Grayson who found him. A hybrid between wince and a smile was plastered on his older brother’s features like he was trying to convince himself that everything was okeydokey. He wasn’t convincing anyone. “Lesley.” He wheezed.

“Jaybird, it's three in the morning.”

“Lesley.” At least she didn’t hate his guts.

Nightwing seemed to get a better grip on the situation and pouted. “Alfred would have liked to see you.”

Jason growled. They both knew pennyworth was a low blow. White stars erupted across his vision as Dick lifted him up bridal style. The lack of complaint on Jason’s behalf made the gravity of the situation very clear and as he opened his mouth to remedy that issue, Nightwing shushed him. “Save your breath.” 

…

“Jay, stay with me.” He was pulled back to consciousness by that voice. The steady lurch of swinging across the buildings had lulled him to a state of black out. Or maybe it had been the blood loss. At this point, Jason barley cared. It was hard to think when everything hurt like hell. He was hanging in Dicks arms now, and all he wanted to do was sleep.

“Come on. Stay awake.” Panic accented Nightwing’s voice. 

“mmpfh.” 

“There we go, buddy.” Weightlessness embraced Jason as they reached the peak of a swing. He wondered if that’s what dying naturally felt like, without a burning building or bomb or a-

His eyes were wet.

“Do you remember that time when you visited me in Bloodhaven?” Dick’s voice pierced through the wind. It was oddly high pitched. Jason thought it would be best to distract him from the present. The twerp. 

“yeh.” He mumbled. “Fries.” 

“That’s right,” Nightwing’s following laugh was laced with panic and surprise. “I took you to get fries ‘cause you’d been whining all day about Alfred’s fancy food.”

Todd huffed. “To teach me,” he coughed, “a lesson.”

“And we got soaked in the storm.”

“You picked the worst, cheapest stall.” He mumbled just over the wind.

“Right off the side of the road.”

Despite the pain, Jason smiled. “The soggiest, stodgiest motherfu-” he got a gentle poke in the side, and tried to stifle the answering spasms of pain.

Dick tensed, but carried on, “I swear they fried them in year-old oil.”

“We ate them behind the shitty little diner.” No poke this time.

“Because you were sick of my apartment.” Dick was starting to tire from swinging them across the city.

“i-’was the size of a cardboard box.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Nightwing’s muscles were quivering now and Jason could feel the sweat on his neck. He must have found Jason at the end of a patrol. “With the flashing neon sigh advertising- ” he gasped for air “advertising-“

“Batman themed nightclub.”

A breathy laugh followed. “And I thought for sure it would shut you up about Alfred’s cooking.” 

Jason remembered. It had been weeks after the Robin mantel had been handed to him. Bruce had needed to leave right in the middle of Alfred’s yearly vacation and not trusting Jason with the manor to himself, he’d forced Dick to babysit. Jason had dreaded it; previous encounters had shown him to be less than pleased with his replacement. But that time had been different. Maybe he’d realised that Jason was just a kid, or had shifted his anger towards B, but Dick hadn’t gone out of his way to be, well a dick. 

That is until the fries.

And Jason had been furious, upset and disappointed when Dick had mistaken his teasing for whining. So he chose to be petty about it. He decided he’d eat every single one.

“You were so angry at me.” Nightwing chuckled. His every breath was strained now. But Jason was starting to recognise the neighbourhood. “With your tiny little pout-“

“hhey.” 

“I remember you scowling, looking me right in the eyes as you shovelled a handful in your mouth.”

“Thought they’d be disgusting.” Dick let out a questioning snort. “t’ get it over with.”

Nightwing was smiling, Jason could tell. And there was a husky quality to his voice. Wimp. “And then your kid-eyes widened and you started smiling like crazy.”

“Not kid eyes.”

“uh, yeah they were.” Dick was lowering them to the ground. “You were like twelve.”

“Shut up wing ding.”

“-And when you were beaming up at me,” he carried Jason towards the door like a sack of potatoes. “Do you remember what you said-?“

Jason huffed, but humoured him. “Holy-shit, just like in Jimmie’s.” (The vendor that had given him a free meal or two back when he’d lived on the streets.) Jason was struggling to keep his eyes open, but he saw Dick’s smile. It was soft, but somehow his eyes shone with an intense feeling Todd really didn’t think belonged there. He lent on the door as Dick rang the bell. “Why do you remember that.” He blurted out weakly.

He shrugged like it was the simplest answer in the world, “It was the first and only time I ever saw you smile like that.”

Then The Red Hood collapsed into his big brothers arms as Lesley Tompkins opened her door in a dressing gown. Later, he would adamantly deny all of Dick’s pestering that it had been a hug. But in that moment, while he wasn’t beaming like back then, Jason Todd let out a tiny smile.


	2. Everyone loves Lucius Fox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim hasn't had more than 3 hrs sleep in the last 2 days
> 
> Prompt: https://write-it-motherfuckers.tumblr.com/post/619048146863013888/person-a-i-dont-know-how-i-keep-fucking-this-up

Tim Drake stared at the monitor as the text swam in front of his eyes. He’d pulled an all-nighter to patrol Gotham and finish this document. The report on Wayne industries’ spending had to be submitted by 7am, and luckily for him, it was only five in the morning. He took a sip of cold coffee. Alfred had refilled it for him a few minutes ago -or was it hours now? Never mind. Temporal awareness was way over rated anyway. Especially when it meant you had to listen to Pennyworth and his suggestions to ‘perhaps get more than two hours sleep tonight, Master Drake’ or ‘I must insist that you actually sleep in a bed, instead of napping in the cave, Master Timothy.’ Maybe one day Alfred and his sarcastic British accent would get the memo…

He was still a whole hour ahead of schedule, so he finished his final proof read and prepared to send it off. Tim stared at the screen and scowled: the board would want it sent by email. Curse the prehistoric idiots. (Bar Lucius Fox, he was pretty competent.) This was his least favourite thing. Ever. He’d take Poison Ivy over this any day. Or maybe Cat-woman. Red robin could always bait her by referencing that one horrific month when her and bat-man had been a thing. God, he was glad that was over. Bruce had been so angsty. 'Our morals are conflicting, Tim, I don't care that it's really simple and I should just dump her Tim. You just wouldn't understand Tim'- anyway he was getting away with himself.

If his state of consciousness hadn’t been balancing on the knife edge of medical exhaustion, he might have heard the sound of someone entering his study. But he didn’t. His first draft resulted in the repeated introduction of his forehead to the desk.

Dear Sirs,

Here are the reports needed for the annual meeting to evaluate Wayne enterprises next week. It will be prominent to the presentation and further discussion of my father’s company’s future, so read it.  
Regards,

Timothy Drake-Wayne.

Hell, Should he even call bruce that?

Dear Sirs,

The reports required by the meeting held next week are linked below. Please be sure to arrive informed of the document's information.  
Kind regards,

Timothy Drake

Nonononononono. 

Dear board members,

Having spent the past three hours evaluating Wayne enterprise's spending data-

No. 

Esteemed colleagues,

The board meeting scheduled this week has been tasked with the purpose of-

Greetings, Wayne enterprise- leading heads,

After much evaluation, it has come to my attention that-

Pfft 'it has come to my attention'

Apologies, meeting attendees-

Tim may have whined. Pitifully. Red robin’s head slumped on the back of his chair as he spun in circles. He was still dressed in his costume, but at least he had ripped the cowl off. He needed more caffeine… but if Pennyworth caught him eating the grounds out of a jar with a spoon again, well Tim didn’t really want to re-live that particular experience. He groaned and slammed his fingers across the keyboard.

Howdy, esteemmed fadv c fuckersafscfdt,

Read it and weap homies, your lit timmy boy heres gonna save daddy’s company.

1)stop paying for profasional phsycologists. If dressing up as a bat or fursona doesn’t fix your self imposed mental issues then u already lost baby hahahhhh *finger guuunnnsss*

2) dont being pathetic misogionists my dudes and hire ALL the brilliant WOmen YeehaAw

3) Be angsty smart and embarce the arms of a cafinated existance. Sleep is stuuuuupppiidddd

He was really starting to enjoy this. Giggling like a child, he continued.

Im 15. Ten and fIVE and im already sparter than u. Stop} giving me the stiky eye and calling me son. Condecendin basTUrDs r gon get fired when I get the Wayne Express train. Yeh dats right ssssuckers so back offffffffffffffff

AAnywasy here r th reports on how ur wasting mie money and time. Trynotto b idiots about it, not u luci luv u bro im real glad ur still here <3 ;3  
Peace out homos, lots of LUsT , xoxo, 

ya boi timmy geneius

“Tt.” The sound right in his ear made him leap 3 ft in the air. Damian. He let out a pitiful groan as his head sank to lean on the desk. “Drake.” the demon child stood up straight like a soldier with his hands behind his back while he glared at his nemesis. “What on earth are you doing?”

“Adulting stuff.” Tim was glad his brain was functional to insult the little monster. ”You’re too short to get it.”

“I am above average height for my age group. Drake.” He spat.

“Could’ve fooled me, munchkin.” Anger flared in the boys eyes, but after a second they squinted to read the screen.

“Are you actually going to send that?” 

Tim scoffed “No.” He turned back to the desk, then immediately spun round so that his back wasn’t exposed to the sick little twit. 

“Alfred sent me to get you to bed.”

“yeah right,” Tim crossed his arms. “like you would ever willingly agree to that.”

“He may have even implied the use of force was acceptable.” Damian smiled. It wasn’t the cute kind of smile that should have been on a twelve-year old’s face. Drake may have suppressed a shudder. It promised violence…

“I could take you.” The demon spawn’s eyebrow rose to new heights. Giving Tim a once over, his smile merely widened. A cold chill surged through his body, but Drake elected to ignore it, giving the assassin child his best Daenery’s meme smile.

“Pennyworth is going to shut off your computer in thirty seconds.”

A beat. “Uurrrhg” He rolled his eyes, like he could have said no if he’d wanted. “Fine.” He could send the reports at 7am exactly.

Tim pressed the off key so Alfred wouldn’t get any satisfaction and made to follow Damian out, but the terroriser’s eyes widened in surprise. His gaze was glued to the monitor. Drake panicked, he’d pressed the right key, hadn’t he? He had. Damian was just messing with him. Yeah. 

Even so, he turned to look.

Email sent.

Shiiiit. He must have pressed enter. 

It's fine, everythings fine. He could just hack into the mainframe and reverse the command-

Then the screen flashed. A tab reading ‘Goodnight Master Drake’ appeared before the whole display was swallowed in black.

Noohoho.

Please, god nO

Tim was two tired for this. He brought his weirdly quivering hands to his face and took a deep breath. After a second, he turned away, resigned to let future him deal with it and trudged out of the room. “I don’t get how I keep fucking up so badly.”

“Me neither.” Damian followed him out, “Honestly, I’m kind of impressed.”


	3. Bat-cow owns my heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is superman part of the bat fam?
> 
> I wanted to try focus more on bruce for this one and I thought he might allow himself to express what he was feeling more around another adult. I get that he's also real angsty and stuff, but I reaaaaly wanted to write some fluff so here it is.
> 
> (I thought I'd reference Dick and Dami to make it a tad more relevant)
> 
> Also yes, Bat cow is an actual cannon character.

The Kent family pickup truck ground to a stop. “I can’t believe we’re finally here, I never thought we’d make it.” Clark Kent, Superman, said as he dramatically clutched his seatbelt.

“Oh for fucks sake, my driving isn’t _that_ bad.” Bruce Wayne grasped the steering wheel tightly- like he didn’t quite trust that a farm animal wouldn’t suddenly appear in front of him (for the second time that day).

“That poor cow...”

“It was in the middle of the road,” He made releasing the wheel look painful. “That’s not where it's supposed to be Clark.”

“Maybe not in the cities, but here in Kansas?” Bruce practically growled as Clark chuckled and carried on. “Now I know why Alfred insists on driving you everywhere.”

"This is why I don't like farm animals." He grumbled.

Clark straightened the slightly rusty rear view mirror, batting the superman air freshener away. The cheap gift from Bruce had gone down well with ma last Christmas. "I would have though Bat-Cow might have persuaded you otherwise."

The comment was met with a rumbling groan, "Lord, Damian hasn't got you on board with it too?"

"Well, it was actually Dick who showed me the pictures..."

"We are not. Keeping it."

"But Bruuce," he whined "she could get made into burgers!" Undoing his seatbelt he continued, "She even has a bat marking on her face!"

"Jesus, fine!" His hands flew up as if to catch a baseball. That statement was enough to show either the brutal persistency of Damian's campaign, or the depth of Bruce's exhaustion. "It can come and live with you in Kansas."

Clark felt bad but, if he agreed to this neither Dick or Damian would forgive him. "But then she wouldn't exactly be bat-cow." He gave B one of his famous sheepish-but-honey-sweet Kent grins, "Besides I'd hate to split a family up."

Another groan filed the truck as Bruce's face disappeared behind his hands, “I came to see your mother as a break, believe it or not.” It was true, and even that had been a tough sales pitch. Clark was just so proud of Dick for manipulating B, using the ‘stay the night and you can miss said gala’ tactic, among others. Bruce ran his hand through his hair, disrupting the polished look he cultivated for the benefit of the press, “Why is Bruce Wayne, the billionaire prince of Gotham is driving himself to a farmers market?"

"To fill Ma Kent's worryingly empty pantry." Clark stated matter of factly.

"In a rusty truck that doesn’t know how _not_ to make worrying noises.” They got out of the previously decreed ‘death trap’ and Clark decided he liked the ruffled version of Bruce Wayne better than the 'picture-perfect press persona' (as Dick liked to call it).

"Sounds about right, Mr Wayne."

Bruce scowled, "Please never call me that ever again." Kent agreed. That was weird. Not only had B forgone his usual designer suit, but he’d left the cufflinks, thousand-dollar watch and bespoke tie back at the manor. The Bruce Wayne in the driver’s seat next to Clark was dressed in a polo shirt and tailored trousers. Which was probably the most informal thing Kent had ever seen him in (that could be worn in public anyway- Clark tried to block the memories of a particularly wild Wayne charity gala out of his mind.) Unless you counted the Bat-suit. Was the Bat-suit informal? “I’m surprised it even runs to be honest.” He settled some shades on his nose and a look of incredulity animated his face. “I’m Bruce Wayne. What am I doing driving this thing?”

Clark wasn’t the least bit offended that Bruce had insulted his truck. "You did do out of your way to insist." If there was one thing he knew, it was how to read his friend. And over the past few weeks this billionaire had been getting more and more frayed around the edges. It was this that had found Nightwing and Superman staging an intervention.

"It's the principle of the thing Cal!" He yelled as he finally climbed out of his seat. 

This was not genuine Wayne anger -at least not directed at him. “Wow, Brucie. Sounds like you really do need to connect with reality again, you've even started referring to yourself in the third person.” He scoffed, shaking his head, "The prince of Gotham." That’s exactly why he and Dick had pulled out the ultimate motivation: Martha Kent’s famous apple pie.

“Kent, my reality is that last Thursday I was at the centre of an alien planet trying to apologise for a translation error before some aliens decided to nuke earth.” Bruce looked him in the eyes as he viciously slammed the poor truck’s door shut. “Speaking Kryptonian.”

Clark was trying, and failing to keep a straight face. He hadn't been present, but flash sure told it like a funny story. He clambered out and nodded as seriously as he could, “Just as well we kept up with our lessons, right?” He shut his door with much more restraint.

“Those lessons were for the purpose of communicating one on one, not with other entities.”

“I don’t see the problem, B." The truth was, he did. But Bruce was so wound up about it he had to try a different strategy to loosen up. A _Nightwing_ -prescribed strategy.

As they came around and met at the back of the vehicle he saw B’s hands had started to wave around. “If I’d had any idea the language would have been essential to humanity's survival I would have actually applied myself.” He was getting close to boiling point. Clark took a second to appreciate it, Bruce had never been one to freely express his emotions, so the kryptonian considered this to be a major breakthrough.

“You weren’t applying yourself?” Clark may have been guilty of acting far more offended than he was, just to see his friend desperately backtrack.

“That’s not what I meant-”

“B if you’re not taking these lessons seriously, I think I want to make some changes to the watchtower shift schedule.” He put his hands on his hips to accentuate the ludicrous nature of the threat: now that Nightwing had been coming along, Kent’s shared shifts with Batman had become the literal highlight of his month.

Their favourite past time was a game they called ‘Holy cow! did he really?’ where Dick presented Clark with a ridiculous phrase and he tried to guess if Batman had actually said it. The previous boy wonder held some gems, such as ‘Holy guacamole in a chimichanga sauce.’ or ‘You’ve clowned your last fool Joker!’ (Dick assured him, both had been said with the upmost sincerity). “I just don’t think I can be your partner now that you’ve insulted my alien heritage like this.”

“Clark-” Bruce paused and pointedly scowled up to the sky. It looked like he was praying away the sin of this monumental exasperation. Then turned to face his friend. “You’re messing with me aren’t you.” Clark’s poker-face crumpled under the force of his laughter as he doubled over clutching his stomach.

“Dick was right- you get riled up so easily,” he wheezed when he got the chance. He’d never really baited Batman before.

Bruce deadpanned, “I should have never introduced you two.” (Well, that realisation came about a decade too late). The rigid posture B fell into reminded Clark of when they’d first met. Those fist weeks of the fledgling Justice League had been rough. He was so glad, if a little proud too, that he finally got to see this more human version of Bruce.

“Best miscalculation you’ve ever made.” As his laughter subsided, Clark gently placed his hand on Bruce’s shoulder. He hoped this way B wouldn’t be able to dismiss the sincerity of his words. “Really Wayne, last week proves you don’t have to plan everything out for it to go your way.” He seemed ready to argue. Clark didn’t give him the chance “We have a good team, B, really, every one of our talents outweigh each other’s weaknesses. The justice league always finds a way, and I don’t know how many times we have to prove it to you before you believe me on this.” The prince of Gotham was now glaring sullenly at the dirt on his Armani shoes. “At least don’t carry the weight of the world on your shoulders alone.” As the silence stretched further Clark began to fear he’d pushed too far, and had assigned himself a silent and sulky Wayne for the rest of the vacation-disguised-as-a-sourly-needed-Ma-needs-help-visit.

But then his friend looked up, a hint of paparazzi-tailored cheer in his eyes, “When you told me Kryptonian was the Latin of space I didn’t think you were referring to the esoteric alien scholars that study it.”

Clark laughed. Years of journalism had taught him the signposts of evasion, but being Superman had taught him the value of choosing your battles, too. He’d let it slide. Bruce might not believe his words, but Clark would show him. And gradually, one day in the quite distant future, Superman would get Batman to share his burden. “Bruce, we’ve talked about this. I’m a simple Kansas-born guy, I don’t know what esoteric means.”

“As the owner of the daily planet that worries me.”

“Shut up and help me get my Ma some food,” Clark elbowed him jokingly, temporarily ignoring that Bruce would insist to pay for it all anyway. They'd cross that bridge when they got to it.

“You’re a journalist Clark, words are your job.”

“I’d say it’s a bit more complicated than that,” he nudged Bruce again and began walking towards the market.

“Eeeeeh. Is it though?” 

Clark mock-gasped, dramatically placing a hand over his heart, "Bruce Wayne are you insulting my profession?"

"No, no not at all," he said with mock-sincerity, "I appreciate every single journalist," He shrugged, placing his hands in his pockets. "Especially those who try to sneak into my personal grounds and then attempt to sue me when Alfred politely escorts them out."

"is it really polite when it involves a shotgun?"

"You'll have to take that up with him, I'm afraid." 

Clark made a show of considering, tilting his head up and squinting his eyes."I guess I'll let it slide." 

"Good call."

They chuckled in comfortable silence for a while as they trudged along. The heavy Kansas Heat was close to stifling, but it did nothing to temper the beautiful, rural view. “Organic plums or locally sourced cherries?” Clark pointed to the Distant farmer’s stalls.

“We secure the Apples first, Kent." B assumed the tone usually reserved for JL missions "I am not missing my chance to get a taste of Martha Kent’s renowned Apple pie."

"I really don't think you need to worry, there are tons over there." 

"And get a crate with worms in? You _heathen_.” Bruce started to make his way to the Orchard grouping of stalls, turning to walk backwards to ensure Kent was following. And to Clark’s surprise, the smile Bruce gave him was totally genuine. Hesitant, but real. Maybe that golden future wasn’t so distant after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: https://write-it-motherfuckers.tumblr.com/post/612249658938507264/person-a-i-cant-believe-were-finally-here-i


	4. Waffle time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was 6pm, and Stephanie Brown found herself craving Waffles.

“Miss Brown, so good to see you.” Alfred said as he entered the manor kitchen. “I assume you entered through the Batcave?”

Steph sat at the counter in front of a plate heaped with waffles, “ _yuhugh_.” She immediately stuck a large bite of heaven into her mouth and grinned at the butler. They had been right there waiting for her.

"Is there any particular reason you are eating breakfast foods at this time?" He eyed her waffles cautiously.

"Bad day."

"Ah."

“Mmh. So, what’re you doing here Alfred?” She immediately drowned the rest in chocolate sauce.

“Do I need I remind you I work for the owner of this house, miss Brown?” She laughed and rolled her eyes, it had been a long time since she’d been victim to the butler’s sarcastic remarks. Too long.

“I meant specifically in this room.” Steph hadn’t exactly expected to run into anyone. Quite a few of the manor’s inhabitants would disapprove of this guilty pleasure. No that she was guilty of eating her weight in waffles occasionally.

“Master Damian has managed to come to blows with some of master Timothy’s experimental arms.”

“Grapple grenade?”

“I believe he called it the pepper-spray paint bomb”

“Ah.” She almost felt sorry for the kid.

Alfred made his way to the refrigerator and took out the whipped cream can. “May I suggest you use this?”

“Uh sure.” Legend that he was, he also passed her the sprinkles and some peanut butter as an after thought. She beamed at him.

“Master Damian’s preferred form of retaliation this week has involved this and various items in Master Drake’s possession.”

She shook her head in disbelief. "Alfred, in a house full of crime fighting vigilantes, I think you're the truest hero here."

"Why thank you miss Brown."

Stephanie snorted, but took up the challenge of finishing the topping. “Didn’t think you were in the habit of buying unhealthy stuff like this.”

Pennyworth gathered some sponges and tea towels. “I blame Master Dick for its presence.” he inclined his head as a farewell gesture and slipped off to tend to the Demon spawn.

Dick must have been suffering through a tough week if the manor was now stocked with sprinkles and nozzle-canned whipped cream. One of Grayson’s habits that drove Alfred crazy (apart from the night-time vigilantism) was stress grocery shopping. The butler claimed it ‘interfered with the delicate balance of healthy foods’ he provided the Wayne family. He never actually attempted to prevent Dick, they all knew browsing the aisles down any random grocers (sometimes in Nightwing gear) served as comfort. Even if Dick couldn’t cook for shit.

That’s where the rest of the robins came in. Cass and Babs had explained the intricacies of their symbiotic coping method and how it had formed to Steph after, well the racoon insident. Dick had developed the habit of buying the ingredients and toppings for the comfort food when Jason had passed away and since Alfred refused to touch the non-organic all-purpose or self-raising flower (etc) they had begun to form a dangerous accumulation. He had probably hoped it would serve as a distraction for Bruce, force him to begrudgingly learn how to bake. But no one touched Dicks ingredients till Tim came along. And after a disastrous kitchen fire, it was decided that Drake couldn’t cook for shit, so he resorted to distributing the stuff to various safe houses and sometimes food banks in Gotham. This included Jason’s places when he finally came back. And thats when the fearsome Red Hood discovered his love for stress-baking.

As a result, Bruce, Duke, Steph and pretty much everyone who came to the manor got to occasionally stuff their faces with home baked goods. Stephany smiled as she recalled how she’d learned this piece if trivia. Then she started laughing. Because Damian, well, Damian hadn’t really developed a ‘healthy’ stress coping mechanism. When he wasn’t shouting and kicking stuff, he was usually insulting Alfred and messing with Drake. At least that’s what she’d thought before she caught him going through the trash.

Steph began chuckling as she relived the memory. She had been staying the night after a run in with her dad and had heard something going through the bins. Like any normal person she’d assumed it was a racoon. A few ‘manly’ screeches and a taser later it became clear that Damian was the feral animal she had meant to scare off. And that he liked sorting through trash. Or as he put it: 'extracting and relocating the recyclable contense of our garbage bins to the right location, you cretin'. At three in the morning. Her laughing grew more and more intense as she recalled the look in his eyes. To top it all off- Damian had been wearing the Robin mask 'for the night vision capabilities' which had made him look exactly like the feral animal she’d mistaken him for. Steph found herself clutching her stomach and whipping tears from her eyes. It took her a while to stop cackling.

Steph hummed happily as she sprayed herself a modest serving of the potential prank tool and dug in. She decided to look through snapchat, Drake had sent her something. She almost had to unhinge her jaw to eat that last bight of waffle but she managed, opening the snap like the multitasking queen she was.

Pictures of Tim’s scrawly handwriting solving some familiar trig problems met her and Steph’s suddenly felt a hell of a lot better. “Timmy you babe,” she mumbled to herself as she screenshotted the solutions to her math homework. The kind action reminded her of the importance of her task, so she drowned her rapidly shrinking pile of waffles with even more of the dairy foam. Then she added some sprinkles.

Alfred entered again, looking exhausted as he returned the sponges and towels. “Still here I see,” he took her sprinkles away.

“Careful Alfie, you don’t sound very welcoming.”

“Just tired miss Brown.” Steph noticed he was holding a file “I assure you, I’m ecstatic to see you here.” Steph snored as he placed the file on the counter “Even if I find your rather disturbing obsessions with that particular breakfast food quite peculiar.”

She felt the need to defend her babies. As she was eating them. Ok maybe let’s not call them babies. “They’re pancakes but with abs.” she nodded matter of fact-ly. Babs had introduced her to the wonders of waffles a while ago. And Steph firmly considered it to be one of the most influential moments her life.

Alfred sighed dejectedly. “Of course.” He gestured to the file, “If you could please encourage Master Bruce to eat when he comes looking for this.”

Sheph’s eyebrows rose as she promptly stuffed her face with another bite of waffle. Disappointingly, it was 80 percent whipped cream. “Sir, yessir,” she gave him a mocking salute. Pennyworth sighed again and walked out. He was getting crafty in his old age.

Tragically, Stephanie was coming to the last layer of her waffle mound. She decided that chocolate sauce and whipped cream was not enough. She rose and riffled through the refrigerator for ice-cream. Silently thanking Dick, she pulled out a chocolate and vanilla mix and gleefully spooned it out onto her buff pancake. Wow it was almost rock solid. She refused to stop there, and added some peanut butter blobs to the her wonderful creation. She finished off her master piece with a handful of mini marshmallows and dug in. Steph was glad she was alone -Cass had once described her eating as 'inhaling but scary and desperate'- and that was when she was still kinda trying to maintain the pretence of normal.

...

Steph was just finishing cleaning the dishes (to erase the evidence) when when one (1) very tired Bruce Wayne entered the kitchen. She froze. There was only one other person the the manor who loved waffles as much as she did. And she had just eaten every single one.

She sat as casually as she could on the counter, sliding the file towards him.

He snorted wordlessly. Ah, Batman mode.

“So, Alfred told me to tell you to eat something.”

He chuckled, “For once, I think, getting me to eat going to be a problem.”

“Oh?” _No, no no no, those hadn’t been-_

“Star city waffles.” _Shiiiit_ “Oliver brought them over earlier.”

“No way.” She tried to wipe her mouth without raising suspicion.

“Yeah I’ve been looking forward to them all day.” B’s tired eyes finaly rose to meet her. He must have smelt her terror. Bruce sighed, “Why do I get the feeling that you’re about to tell me something I really don’t want to hear?”

She gave him what she hoped was an innocent smile. “....Experience?” she shrugged.

His eyes scanned the room. “Spill it, Brown,” he began massaging his temples.

“Well,” she began, “I had a _reaaally bad day_ _today_ -” his gaze fell on the empty wrapping. So much for no evidence

“You ate my waffles.” And lord above, he really was the worlds best detective.

“Yeah. I ate all your waffles.”

“All of them.” Oh no. That was the desperate whisper. She was about to get lectured.

 _“Yeh.”_ And with that tiny noise she made her final prayers. Bruce stalked over, glaring all the way. And even with her vantagepoint, he still towered over her. She would have joked about him already firing her from the Robin mantel, but she didn’t want to give Bruce any ideas (Including either Spoiler or actual fire).

Stephanie Brown sat still, waiting with a bated breath. Screw that, she couldn’t even feel her lungs anymore. Not under Bruce’s empty glare. He didn't look tired anymore. He lent even closer, right in her personal space as she leaned back. Just because she recognised the textbook intimidation tactic doesn’t mean it didn’t work.

Then, after what seemed like an eternity filled with racing heart beats- even though it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds- Bruce pulled away. The sharp look in his eyes vanished behind a sleepy squint. He was holding the whipped cream. He turned, muttering "Guess I'll have to blackmail Barry..." And as he slowly stalked away, he tipped his head back, pressing the nozzle and holding the can above him. He straight up just inhaled the rest of the whipped cream. He didn't even break his stride.

“Shit.” Stephanie whispered to herself, her heart still pounding.“Why didn’t I think of that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: https://write-it-motherfuckers.tumblr.com/post/189908690545/person-a-why-do-i-get-the-feeling-that-youre


	5. Height contest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand we're looking at Jason again- I'm sorry I just think he's such an interesting character! 
> 
> He's just a smoothie of trauma and cinnamonroll-ness with snarky remarks peppered in. (At least how I see him)

Jason had been excited at first. He’d been Robin for, like, a month and Batman was already taking him to the super-secret Justice League base. Dick hadn’t met Superman till he was waaaaay older. This was definitely proof that he was the better Robin. Dick had been nervous, he knew because Batman had told him, thinking Jason was too. But his hands were shaking with excitement -that was all. 

As Batman wordlessly stalked to the zeta tube, Jason hurriedly patted his hair down for the tenth time before following him. He’d even tried to polish his costume’s shoes- and pestered Alfred to fix his cape. His chest puffed up with pride as the machine voice recognised his security code. He remembered looking at his reflection-grinning like a kid... and then trying to temper his smile. The justice League didn’t smile. Well Superman did. But Dick liked him so he was lame.

He’d forgotten himself when he saw the windows- the gaping void of space stretched out around him. His jaw had hit the floor. But Dick had squealed-so it wasn’t that embarrassing. Batman had barely paused, surging towards a group of adults by the control panels. They looked like they were in the middle of a fight. Jason hoped his cape billowed like batman’s. Flash was practically vibrating like a cheap wind-up toy, “Bringing another kid-“

Batman interrupted him. “Wonder Woman, Flash, Superman,” they turned and Jason’s breath caught. “Meet Robin.”  
He had their undivided attention- so he stuck his chin out and gave them a nod. Batman didn’t need words to be awesome-so neither did he. Robin crossed his arms to look even cooler. It wasn’t to hide his shaking hands.

He remembered Superman kneeling down. That had annoyed the hell out of him- Grownups only did that to kids. “Heya Buddy.” He said tentatively. There was reproach in his eyes though- and pity. He’d seen enough of it coming from better-off strangers on the streets to build up a healthy distaste for it. Supes was expecting a scaredy-cat kid like Dick, well Jason was way braver than him. 

But Batman had told him to watch his mouth. “Superman,” he said. There was an awkward silence. It didn’t bother Jason one bit though. “Why do you wear underwear over your-” Batman pointedly coughed. Jason shut his mouth abruptly and looked at his shiny shoes. Then begrudgingly mumbled, “Nevermind.” This silence was punctuated by even more questioning looks aimed at Batman. Jason was big enough to admit that Wonder Woman was his favourite superhero- but he wasn't brave enough yet to look up and see the same wince-like expression the others were struggling to hide coming from her.

“It’s nice to meet you, kid.” Flash tried to smile warmly. He looked twitchy and demented.

Jason frowned. (He definitely didn’t pout) “I’m not a kid.” The speedsters eye brows rose. “Back off.”

He laughed awkwardly “Um, sure. Ok.” Flash’s eyes darted between Batman and Superman. The latter seemed to be re-booting. For a guy that spent so much time around humanity he wasn’t very good at socializing.

The look exchanged reminded him of the thugs back at Gotham, always underestimating him, expecting Batman to call the shots and order him around. It made Jason boil up with anger, “I mean it twitchy- or I’ll make you.”

The flash looked down at him, raising an eyebrow, “I’ve never been threatened so adorably before.”

Jason stomped forward, raising his fists, “Yeah well I’m about to adorably kick your fucking ass-”

“Language,” Batman growled.

He remembered immediately backing down, retreating behind B’s cape. He remembered being embarrassed about it. He’d clenched his fists, ready to launch into full blown rant that would show them all-

“You have a fighting spirit, young warrior.” Jason looked up to speaker: Wonder Woman. She was dressed in her Armor as well as some combat boots and a leather jacket.

He didn’t blush, and he definitely didn’t forget himself and whisper, “Wow.” No, Jason was totally cool in the presence of the amazon princess- even if she was so pretty she was practically glowing.

“I’m sure with enough dedication, you will become a formidable opponent on the battle field.” She was still talking to him. 

“Well, duh.” He may have felt his face heat. Her smile widened though, and he found an answering expression shyly worming its way onto his face. “Ma’am if you don’t mind me askin’,” the other heroes shifted at his politeness, but she was a princess, “Why aren’t you in charge of the Justice League?” He tried to still his fingers. They were fiddling. 

She threw her head back and laughed, the other heroes chuckled awkwardly. Jason began to retreat behind the marble-like Batman- he must have said something wrong, “That is a good question, little one,” she replied.

Jason bristled “I’m not little.” He was taller than Dick had been at his age. 

“You are shorter than the majority of opponents you face, are you not?”

“Yeah, but-”

“It is no insult, only an observation.” She stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder and looking him right in the eyes, “With a sharpened mind and a heart like yours, the size of your body won’t matter at all.” She began to leave, waving goodbye. 

“Well, well I’m still gonna be taller than Dick!” he called after her. 

She laughed explosively again, clutching her stomach, but Jason found he didn’t mind. “I look forward to seeing you again, Robin.” Wonder woman entered the zeta tube and teleported way.

“Looks like someone’s got a crush” Superman said good-naturedly.

He remembered rolling his eyes dramatically, “So because she’s a woman it must be attraction and not respect that I feel towards her?” 

Superman started and Batman hurriedly placed a hand on his shoulder, guiding him to the zeta tubes. “Gotham needs us,” he explained. Jason remembered being so focused on glaring daggers at The kryptonian and Flash that he almost missed the Dark Knight’s tiny smile. Almost.

...

That was the memory that rose to greet The Red Hood as he glared at the Bat cave Zeta tube. It had been a long time since he’d used one, and now he was making amends… there was someone he wanted to see again.

He sucked on a tooth. This was stupid. Why did he let Dick talk him into this? Of course, this wasn’t exactly what Nightwing had suggested, but if he was going to do it at all, it would be in his own way, with his own terms. Dramatic, band-aid ripping confrontation it was. 

Red Hood stalked towards the tube and tried not to clench his fists. He was technically still a wanted man, maybe this wasn’t the best way to do it-

The artificial voice started listing his new information and security code that Dick had uploaded last night. Well he couldn’t exactly go back now. That would just be rude. Hood stepped inside, pointedly ignored the voice in his head whining about how bad manners had never stopped him before. He straightened the lapel of his leather jacket. Then he tried to scratch some month-old dried blood off there too. He was beginning to regret not polishing his combat boots when he blinked- and found himself staring into the cosmic abyss. 

“Just Admit it Bats- you’re going soft. The Red Hood has murdered People!” The enraged voice suddenly cut off as he walked into the watchtower. He was hit by an almost tangible wave of shock and silence. 

Hood couldn’t resist giving a mocking salute to the assembled members of the gobsmacked Justice League. (Superman, Wonder woman, Flash and Batman- wow it was almost like he’d planned this!!…he was ashamed to admit that he had) And voice in the back of his head expressed concern and went ‘?!?!?!?!’ when he registered the words that had been said. What a coincidence. He ignored it.

Batman whipped his head around explosively as the Flash disappeared into a blur. All of a sudden, The Red Hood was in a choke hold. Then Flash convulsed and fell to the ground when he touched Red Hood’s newly installed body-armour-bat-Taser.

“Stand down.” Batman’s voice echoed. Hood casual stepped away from Flash and rested his fists on his hips. He wasn’t entirely sure who it was directed out.

And Flash was up, spitting, “Murderer-”

“Stand. Down.” B started to stalk towards them. “Hood, what are you-”

“Well, speakin’ of the devil an all that.” He made his way to the glass keeping the vacuum of space at bay and forced his body relax as he leaned against it, “Thought I’d drop by-”

Superman and Wonder Woman had stood up too. The former spoke like an earthquake, “B, how the heck did he get in-” 

“Nightwing seemed pretty keen on-”

The Kryptonian’s jaw hit the floor, “Nightwing?!?” his eyes were as big as saucers. Hood recalled the details of their friendship- then dismissed the images of blinding heroism etc.

The Red hood cleared his throat, hoping no one could hear his racing heart beat, “Yeah I’ve been cleaning up Gotham recently an-“

“You’re a crime lord.” The steely expression on the Amazonian’s face made his stomach plunge. Fuck this was a bad idea. What had he been thinking? Shit. He’d electrocuted flash and he couldn’t exactly take the damn helmet off and say ‘hey you guys remember me? The Robin who died like twenty fucking years ago?’

“Red Hood,” Batman growled, “is this really how you want to do this?”

The supers managed to look even more confused. And even a little less angry. Hood caught his fingers fiddling and quickly crossed his arms. 

A groan erupted from the floor and everyone’s attention returned to Flash. He was having trouble getting up. “Yeah,” Hood made himself chuckle, “sorry about that twitchy.” The speedster’s brow burrowed (so much that you could see wrinkles through the cowl) as he peeled himself of the shiny floor and joined the three other leaguers at the control panel. Fuck, maybe they wouldn’t remember. “Anyway, nice to see you’re still wearing your boxers in the wrong way, Supes.” Hood stalked a little closer, making a show of scratching his helmet. “You never did tell me why…”

The realisation dawned on the group. Not quite exactly the one Hood was aiming for- but close. They were realising they’d met before. 

Batman stood to the side, frowning like he couldn’t believe that his friends were such idiots. To be fair it had been a while ago. Hood resolved he’d give them one more clue and take his helmet off. He had the domino mask so it would be too easy.

Wonder Woman was eyeing both the Gothamites as he dared to step even a tiny bit closer. “And actually,” he undid he clasp “Adding to the list of questions you never answered, Diana, you never did explain why you aren’t the boss round here.” He lifted if off gingerly and tussled his hair, trying to prevent his grin from turning sheepish.

Her eyes narrowed further, he knew addressing her by her name was a privilege few could claim- but he had been of those people, way back when. Then her whole face relaxed, not quite stretching into surprise, but shock was visible in her eyes. 

He scratched the back of his neck, not being able to resist another hint,“I did end up being taller than Dick so..” He shrugged and her shoulders slackened. He didn’t dare look at the others.

“No, no it couldn’t be-” a few weighted heartbeats passed. Then there were tears in her eyes and Jason found himself in a bone crushing hug. 

He shuddered in relief and returned the embrace, finding himself laughing quietly. “Surprise?” he almost whispered.

She pulled back and playfully shoved his shoulder, “If you ever do that to me or your father ever again-“

Todd immediately tensed, not daring to look at Batman. He checked himself, “Yeah, yeah I already got this lecture from Dick already.” He looked out into space.

Her hand cupped his cheek and brought his eyes to her steely ones, “And you will receive it again, little one.” Her other hand squeezed his shoulder gently.

“Ah,” he brought his pointer finger forward trying to imitate the air of a scolding parent, “You can’t call me that any more- look I’m even taller than him.” He pointed to his former mentor (still not daring to look) who huffed. 

“You never were very accurate in information gathering,” the Bat muttered.

Diana tipped her head back and laughed that wonderful (hah wonderful) cackle off hers. The explosive sound seemed to shock the other heroes and they cautiously offered him a small smile and nod (from Flash) and a tentative pat on the back (from Superman). Jason allowed himself to chuckle.

As Wonder Woman wiped the tears from her eyes she shook her head. “You and your petty height competitions.” she tutted, as if to say ’men’. Diana half-gently punched B in the arm, “I often theorise that is the real reason I do not command the League.” Bruce inclined his head and Jason’s eyebrow rose. Gesturing to Superman she continued, “Well he’s the tallest by three point two milometers, isn’t he?” 

She looked to Batman imploringly who appeared to be in great pain as he spoke, like every syllable ground against his throat, “It's only one if I'm wearing my boots.”

Then both the Flash and Jason burst into uncontrollable laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm open to any constructive criticism you might wanna drop in the comments :)  
> Always up for that self improvement juice.
> 
> Prompt: https://write-it-motherfuckers.tumblr.com/post/616511343743369216/person-a-ive-never-been-threatened-so-adorably


	6. Juice is for pre-schoolers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just Dami being new to Gotham city- and gordon being sick of it

The exhausted Commissioner Gordon looked at the kid in front of him: dark hair, blue eyes, and wearing a glare potent enough that even a grown man would hesitate before calling him short. Even a severely bruised rib paired with a hell of a black eye did nothing to weaken the ice-cold fire behind his gaze. He'd have to get his hands on an ice pack. Gordon’s fingers skirted over the surface of his desk, smoothing out the statement report thrust upon him. He had been collecting his jacket when Hopper- no Hooper had cornered him. The kid sat still as a statue. Jim took a deep breath- he was going to have to stay a little longer at the precinct. “So, the fire escape ladder just happened to knock the thug out?”

“Accidents happen.” Came the cold, sharp reply.

The commissioner huffed, statements like that pretty much held up the crime life in Gotham. He shuffled the file and stole a much-needed gulp of coffee before continuing, hesitant and cautious. “So why were you passing the alley?”

The boy shrugged, “Walking home.” Sure, Jim thought, with shoes as shined as that, this kid was not the type to forgo the chauffeur experience. There were only two types of people in Gotham, rich asshole or street rat- and exceptions were hard, if not impossible to come by. Much like a serious word out of the playboy Bruce Wayne’s mouth. Jim winced at the recollection of another task on his list: track down the billionaire. Last night, the precinct’s annual fundraiser (not that there weren’t more than one a year- god, they needed the money) had been missing it’s most prominent benefactor, and with the Penguin and Riddler out of Gotham, kidnap seemed like a much more likely engagement for Wayne than simply missing the chance to play philanthropist.

With a frown, the older man realised the name section of the file was missing. He’d have to chase up Hooper about professionalism on the job- it was bad enough that the detective had forced this case into his hands. ‘You’re good with kids sir’ was not even close to a legitimate excuse worth wasting the commissioner’s time with a slightly disturbing and suspicious mugging gone-wrong. Adding inconsistent filing? If Jim hadn’t been so pressed for employees so incompetent they couldn’t be corrupt Hooper would have been fired months ago.

“So, kid what was your name again?”

“Don’t call me kid.”

“Son,” Jim ignored the flash of teeth- how animalistic. “Just answer the question.”

“And get called a liar and a joke again? You must be a philistine.”

Gordon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He suspected the kid's use of obscure vocabulary could be an overcompensation thing, but that little assumption didn't add anything to the files so it discarded. Not for the first time, he found himself questioning every career choice that had led up to this moment. Perhaps if he hadn’t ignored Batman’s ‘League of Assassins’ bullshit last week, karma might have gone easy on him. If he'd been a more gullible man, he might have been concerned. A sudden influx of trained assassins sure sounded bad. “I’m asking one more time and then we’ll put you in the cells till you’re begging us to call your parents.”

The boy, who Jim was expecting to spit and growl, schooled his features into a smile so pleasant it screamed ‘fake’. He took his hands out from his lap and settled them on the arm rests. The kid looked perfect for the role of ‘heir to every corporation in America,’ even in the ratty department chair. Inclining his head, he spoke smugly, “Damian Wayne.”

The only words echoing in Gordan’s brain were 'holy' followed by 'shit'. 

'Corporate heir of America my ass.' came soon afterwards.

…

After a call from which the police commissioner was still recovering from, Jim tentitivley filled out the form. Pennyworth the butler had been viciously insistent on Bruce’s unavailability as well as the legitimacy of the kid’s claim. So now he had the prince of Gotham’s latest ward to look after till Grayson, the original, could pick him up. Gordon only hoped they’d save the replacement drama till after they got outside. 'Here's hoping we avoid another Dick vs Todd brawl outside the holding cells' went a bitter voice in his head. It had beed pretty brutal. Even with the staggeringly generous donation (more like guilty reparation) to pay for the collateral (a surprising amount of broken desks and dented-beyond-use filling cabinets). He seriously considered calling for the riot gear in advance this time. Now on top of all that, Gordon had to play ‘don’t let the press catch on.’ or the next ground break story of the city would be a collage of the poor kid’s face. Not that the little bastard didn’t deserve it.

“D’you want some juice?” Jim started unloading his briefcase, might as well make a long night longer with paperwork.

A sour look overcame the kid, “Do you think I am a pre-schooler?”

“Kid, if you’re under twenty you all look the same.” Jim was trying very hard to avoid using the term 'turd blossom' anytime soon.

“That is an illogical and overly hyperbolic statement.” The older man didn’t even bother trying to reply or place his lilting accent- who knew where Wayne was getting the kids from now days.

"How about a candy bar?" His suggestion was met with yet another pertinent glare. "The vending machine is a little overpriced but I doubt that means anything to you," he joked. 

"How many times do I have to repeat myself?" The spoilt brat literally growled. "I am not a child. I do not like sugary foodstuffs with little to no nutrient content and I do not requite adult supervision every single day till I turn thirty-five!" 

His voice had risen to a shout at that point, so the commissioner used every second of de-escalations tactics he was trained with. Which was zero, by the way. “Suit yourself.” 

The little punk's eyes widened to the size of Gordon's worthless badge, but he receded further into the scrappy chair. He started congratulating himself for a job well done after the silence had stretched for a full ten seconds, but then the kid muttered something unintelligible. Whatever it was, Jim could hear the malice and indignation oozing out of his tone. "What was that, Mr. Wayne jr.?" 

A feral anger flashed in the kids eyes, "All cops are bastards anyway." 

And Gordon couldn't help but let a hoarse laugh escape him. "Ain't that the truth." He poured himself some more coffee, and briefly considered taking the whole jug. Then Hopper, damn him, entered his office and took it away.

…

Three reports in, and the commissioner was feeling slightly less pessimistic. His computer hadn't even crashed yet. Furthermore, the kid hadn’t so much as moved, let alone said anything after the last interaction. He’d just sat there stiff as a rod, making a ‘Tt’ sound every time an officer left the room, as if their mere existence was a mild inconvenience. Jim kinda had to agree with him on the inconvenience, if not on the mild part.

Then a gentle knocking sounded at his door. That was strange, none of his staff were ever so considerate. If knocking could even be that. Gordon looked up and say the familiar, if aged, face of Dick Grayson. He smiled, and stood to greet him, “Come in and get the kid, why don’t you.”

Dick beamed and the commissioner got a glimpse of the twelve-year-old he’d met so long ago, “Long time so see Mr. Gordon.”

“How many times do I have to ask you to call me Jim?” He greeted the younger man with a warm handshake.

“At least ten.” 

They chuckled and Damian stood abruptly. His brother was weary enough to give him enough space as he gave the commissioner a nod, “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Jim sat down, “Maybe next time you can tell me all about how Bludhaven’s treating you.”

The kid snorted, tossing the now-warm ice pack on the desk, “Just don’t count on my presence to catalyse your reunion.” That earned him a nudge from Grayson, followed by a nod to the commissioner as he guided his brother out of the office. Jim was able to catch the last few words:

“How many times, Dami, if you don’t wanna go back to your mom you don’t have to.”

The carefully quelled look of hope, hidden behind a scowl was the last thing Commissioner Gordon saw of the young Damian Wayne for quite some time. And when he met those too-schooled-to-be-a-child’s features again he had already decided. Whatever Bruce had going on with Wayne Enterprises or his latest model fling, Gordon could still get behind the whole adoption thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no actual prompt that I can remember- tho all stories r all just re-boots anyways


	7. When you don't have an ex to drunk text...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so im acc obsessed with these text chain fics- I decided to give it a try 
> 
> warning: sad bat dad ahead -who may b slightly drunk...or hungover. Whichever's worse ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also I didn't really know how to portray pauses as I usually end up skipping timestamps so I thought id try do it more visually using the spaces between lines

**{Bruce}**

{Alfred}

**Do we have anything other than protein shakes in the manor?**

Would thirteen bedrooms, a rooftop jacuzzi or an extremely high tech basement/cave not suffice sir?

**I ment the fridge Alfred**

**meant.

I suggest if you want to actually text me, Master Bruce, you should at least put in the effort.

**My apologies, the model that just tried to slip an aphrodisiac in my drink must have distracted me.**

You are ‘off your game’ as master Dick would say.

**Quite**

**But how are we doing on breakfast foods and the fridge**

If you think the pantry is anything but fully stocked ‘u r lame’ as the youth of today would put it.

Breakfast?

**Alfted what’s you’re point**

****Your -that was autocorrect I swear**

Master Bruce, considering you just referred to me as ‘Alfted’ I would conclude that my efforts to prove this new form of communication as a highly embarrassing and one-time-only venture have been vastly overshadowed by your own.

That is to say: just call me.

**Fair** **enoughj**

**And before you get petty about me not answering your question I’ll do it now.**

Oh joy, you really must be inebriated tonight.

[incoming call]

[call end]

* * *

{Dick}

Hey so I was thinking I could drive Dami to school next week

**Sure**

**Can I ask why?**

I’m in Gotham and I want to bond with my youngest brother?

**I’ll let Alfred know**

**Usual car?**

Yeah

**How’s Bludhaven?**

Sorry cant talk rn

**Alright, see you Monday**

**Maybe we could go to that** **ice-cream place you used to like?**

**Down by the docks** **wasn't it?**

I'd love to take Dami there!

**I'm sure he'll love it.**

* * *

_{Tim}_

**How was the flight?**

_Good. Mr fox briefed me all the way there_

**You at the hotel?**

_We landed three hours ago_

_Paris traffic may be killer but it isnt that bad, B_

**Just checking.**

**You know, last time I was there someone thought swimming in the seine sounded like a good idea**

_Haha Jason told me the story_

**You’re in contact with him?**

_Um yeah._

_sometimes_

_Not that often_

_Like neve_ r

_gtg check the slides again_

**I’m sure you’ll ace it**

**-Don't forget to eat**

**-and sleep**

**Good luck**

_Dw- Mr.Fox will tell you how great I manipulated the board_

**I’d like to hear that story from you**

_Ha, well im gonna check out the mini fridge_

**And the slides?**

_Deffo_

**Go get’em tiger :) :)**

* * *

**_{Damian}_ **

**How's the homework going?**

_**Father, why are you texting me?** _

**To ask how your homework is going**

_**It is going well.** _

**_I'd like to continue doing it now, goodnight._ **

**Night, Damian.**

** {Jason} **

** Go away.**

**Sorry?**

** Back. off.**

**I think you have the wrong number**

**is this Bruce the bad biliioaire dad? **

** Thought so.**

**Jason?**

** This is a one time thing. **

** Call your brainwashed side kicks off me or they’ll get a bullet hole or two in them **

**Are you talking about Dick or Tim?**

** Both. **

**I’m only asking once **

**You forgot to bluff about shooting them**

**??? **

**Oh, were you not repeating yourself?**

** Fuck off  **

**Jay, its been a long day, im tired and sliiightly tipsy. or hungover. whichever worse.**

**Alfred had to convince me not to bring someone home from the gala tonight. He had to convince me jay- actually list the reasons to my face.**

**well over the phone.**

**And is that all >? NO!! The only contact ive had w Dick for the past monbth is a text today asking about damian- who wont even speak to me and Tim is half way round the world at a board meating which you already knew causee u too r so close nowdays.**

**The errors ive made n this text r atrocious and Alfred would gut me but im two done or drunk/hungover to care.**

**And now you’ve bought AND RIGGED an untraceable handset specifically to tell me to go fuck myself?**

** Those weren’t my exact words **

**FURTHERMORR**

**I’m guessing Dick cornered you tonight which is what motivated you to do this which means hes in gotham and hasn’t told me**

**And? **

**ANd? AND? I haven’t spoken to my eldest son a months**

**A!**

**MONTH!!**

**Im trying to be a good-no- mediocre father to you boys and I know ive failed misrebly already**

**Youre right im a bad dad**

**A bad bat dad**

**:((((**

**fuck**

**ignore all that**

**getting Poison Ivy back behind bars took longer than it should have**

** Well you suck at your job,  ** ** I heard Clayface got free.  **

**Wanna go beat him up? **

**God yes**

** Let’s get a burger first **

**and fries?**

**Duh.**

**Your gonna need to b sober for this.**

**Lets meet outside jimmy's stand in an hour**

***you're :)**

**Fuck you Bruce.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ps: I discovered the formatting thing when checking thru on this acc website so I thought it would b cool to simulate the whole messages display u get on ur mobile... and this was after I used the bold/italics/underlined to differentiate the senders. I also decided I could just do BOTH so it was extra clear :))
> 
> plz feel free to let me know if it was you much ect


	8. 'If you ground me I'll go viral again'-Tim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three viral videos in which some of the Batfam participate in /inspire the A team challenge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the A-team Avengers fic by Isnt_it_pretty_to_think_so was TOO GOOD and all I could really think about after was a mini-feud like that within the Batfam
> 
> and then this sorta happened.... whoops? 
> 
> [Would also recommend reading their other works!! the hot chocolate one? HEARTWARMING https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isnt_it_pretty_to_think_so/pseuds/Isnt_it_pretty_to_think_so]
> 
> the inspiring fic= https://archiveofourown.org/works/15130262/chapters/35084498

The video starts with a pair of tattered sneakers, quickly panning over a puddle infested embankment of the Gotham docks. The crumbling brick and concrete is bathed in a sterile neon glow which originates from a flickering restaurant sign, but the garbage cans make it clear this is the back door of ‘Dolore’s’ Donuts.’ Signal and Spoiler are almost immediately distinguishable through the partial shadows and shaky camera footage. It is clear the person filming is not a professional- and is probably a fan; by the whispering of ‘holt shit holy shit holy shit!’ as the camera focuses.

The teen vigilantes are talking animatedly but their words are muffled. They are hurriedly scrubbing what looks like graffiti off a purple motorbike. Spoiler punches her companion and her words raise in volume enough to be caught by the camera bike, “Dude, this is my bike!!”

“Gee, really? I hadn’t noticed!”

“MY baby!!” her scrubbing intensifies. “my baby has a DICK on her!”

“It needed a new [pain?-paint?] [sob?-job] anyway.”

“Signal, I swear to the divine powers of Green Arrows ass if you don’t ZIP it I will DECK you.” Signal murmurs something that sounds like admiration. The words ‘horrifically’ and ‘detailed’ have been extrapolated by various professional lip readers and are added to the subtitles below. Spoiler kicks him in the shin. “This [is] why nobody picks you for [there-then-their?] A-team team-ups!”

“[I do] loads of team ups.” Signal stops violently scrubbing and turns to face her, it is clear from his face that he is perplexed, but a quick slap on his helmet refocuses him. He mumbles something along the lines of ‘you’d only pick [Ass?-Al] anyway’ or ‘food only lasts three days.’ Both offered sentences are highly disputed over, but clarity is never received.

After approximately thirty seconds of charged silence, punctuated only by the audible hyperventilating of the camera-holder as well as a threatened castration of a Hayden/Jason, the two tilt their heads as if they are receiving a transmission and Spoiler swears viciously (at least that’s what it looks like- the offered subtitles read ‘waffles’ as well as other breakfast foods.) They both leap on the bike and speed away.

The execution of their getaway is smooth and barely lasts a few seconds. But the frame still freezes, and zooms in on the side of Spoiler’s bike revealing a huge, horrifically detailed, red and hairy dick. The video goes semi-viral within the (outrageously early) hour, and although a mysterious lull in its popularity prevents it from reaching beyond city news outlets, it’s not long before a certain sleep-deprived someone catches on.

…

Red Robin is sprawled on a couch in front of a damp and peeling wall. His propped-up leg and right arm are in casts. He also sports a split lip along with a concussion (debated in the comments section below). He also holds a coffeepot.

“First things first,” he takes a swig, no mug in sight, “I wanna say that this” he gestures with the pot to himself and smirks “won’t keep me down for long.” He shifts to sitting up and winces. “Secondly, uh, on an unrelated topic, I would think,” he tilts his add and pauses for emphasis “that being benched for something like, mmmmmh saving an entire city? -Yeah doing that- would merit like…outrage on the…benchie-saviours’ behalf.” He takes another impressively long gulp of coffee. “That being said…uuh, for a friend of mine- who wasn’t the only one to blame, yeah they recognise some actions taken could have um been less” his eyes dart to the side, “uh selfless? Like I- I mean they don’t agree that suicide or like, self-sacrificial are the uuuugh the right terms? That could have…been…used?” he gazes forlornly into the depths of his coffee pot, which has been sloshing worryingly. It also seems to have something inside. Maybe a baterang? “and also I miss- uuh I miss seeing the joy on their face when they’re, like allowed to access their tech. Which they made by themselves just sayin’.”

The teen brightens abruptly “SO anyway imma put together my own A-team team-up, as coined by Spoiler, because ugh, cause I’m unbelievably bored.” Red Robin sets and action figure on the table. It is him. Next he wordlessly places copies of Nightwing, and Red hood. By the Robin action figure his poker-face is cracking into an impish smirk. “So, this has taken me like- the better part of a month to collect…” he gently places Black bat, Bat-girl and Spoiler, “like you would be surprised how hard some of these are to track down.” With a flourish he proceeds to put Signal, Bluebird and Batwing. “These are some real collectors’ items; ladies, gentlemen and distinguished foes.”

By this point in the video, many are questioning where The Batman is, but Red Robin seems to be finished. As if he can see his humungous virtual audience, his smirk dawns into an almost devilish grin. “Oh no,” he says in mock surprise, “I seem to be missing someone…” He then raises his jug as a toast and proceeds to chugs a good portion of his coffee. By the fifteenth second, an action figure emerges from the depths. Those with sharp eyes or military grade screens (like those found in the bat-cave) are quick to realise it is, however, a woman. The vigilante cackles as he puts Black Canary on the table. She drips a little, but otherwise looks flawless as always. “And we don’t want her to get lonely,” Red Robin exclaims. So, he pulls two more action figures from the couch cushions and puts both Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy next to her.

“Now folks, I realise what you’re thinking.” He nods sagely- though some doctors are quick to wonder if maybe that movement is involuntary and a symptom of caffeine poisoning. “These people are all basically Gothamites. You’re right. I needed some restrictions cause these guys are actually not that cheap, surprisingly.”

He pats mini Robin on the head and then knocks him off the table, “Whoops must be getting a bit crowded over here.” He takes hold of Nightwing and continues his small scale pantomime in a silly voice. “Oh no! Robin! I’ll save you! Your young body can’t withstand a scratch! Even bruising might be fatal!!” he drops the toy. The teens eyelids are drooping, but he still manages to flick Batwing off the surface and with a pause, Signal follows. He seems to mouth the word 'boooringg' as he does so. “Hm, I guess not everyone wants to be on my A-team…” His cowl creases, presumably along with his face, “Actually I dunno how you two got the invite.” He scoots Bat-girl and Bluebird to the side, nodding and smiling gently “Don’t worry I can call you for, like, backup.” He takes a surprisingly dainty sip, and hesitantly pushes Poison Ivy to join them, smiling as if to congratulate himself on a good grouping.

The remaining figures stand defiantly: Spoiler, Red Robin, Black Canary, Harley Quinn, Black Bat and Red Hood. The full-sized Red Robin appears immensely pleased with himself, despite swaying. He then frowns. “Wait! Signal-no Spoiler your bike is still messed up.” Cradling his chin on a fist, the teen sighs, “And you would probably end up hogging all the food at breakfast- I won’t even be awake enough to steal it from you.” With his mind made up, he slides the purple figure across the table towards Bat-girl’s group. “Byyyee.”

With his team finally assembled, Red robin returns to his sprawl and grins at the camera. Despite all the caffeine he’s drunk, he still looks exhausted. The teen manages a smile, “So, uh, if you guys wanna hit me up whenever we can like takeover Gotham. Haha jk.” He pauses, inclining his head and (probably) arching an eyebrow. Then he whispers: “….unless?"

The video cuts to black. And despite a certain military grade computer, it survives long enough to be immortalised into countless copies as well as some proclaimed god-tier memes. It does indeed reach national television, but somehow not much further. The youtube channel that originally posted it [boidoIwantcoffee] is mysteriously deleted by the third hour, after gaining a following of 2.3 mil. Some comments read as below:

Metrpolissuckmyballs 3 minutes ago

Holy cow that’s actually Red Robin?? Istg is he even out of middle school

Thebatwatcher365 5 minutes ago

Is no one gonna comment on how this kid hasn’t been seen in a while? I bet he’s the one who actually got benched lmao

Peachyboi291861 5 minutes ago

bet its The Batman’s fault. Guy obvs just grounding his kid

Timbolivesforunsleep247 4 minutes ago

Could just be the fart knight being a jerk like usual

GothamNews69 10 minutes ago

Is this a direct response to the video of Spoiler and Signal?

BenDover420x83 11 minutes ago

His team is basically women? Is he just trying to get the feminist clout?

BarberaGord0n 10 minutes ago

Maybe he’s just not a misogynist like you assh0le

…

The next instalment is a shaky video uploaded to an Instagram account named ‘TheGothactrobat.’ No one is tagged, but the caption reads ‘no words needed #ATeam #thebatfam #Onlyingotham’

The frame is filled with a brown forehead, which after some fumbling is revealed to belong to a handsome, but masked young man. The filming device, most likely a phone, is placed on what seems to the flat roof of a skyscraper which towers above most of Gotham. It is at this point that Nightwing’s full costume is seen in frame.

He excitedly ‘jazz-hands’ towards a group of Superhero action figures. It is much more extensive than Red Robin’s collection, spanning the Justice League as well as even the Arrow and Flash families. Every single one has been balanced on their feet. “Hey, Robin, wanna make an A-team?”

A scowling child enters the frame, towering over not much else than the toys, “There’s no Superboy.” His mask doesn’t do much to cover the potency of his glare, but being unaware of the camera, he luckily doesn't direct it towards the viewer.

“Nah, but look there’s me’n you!” Nightwing executes a cartwheel which lands him next to the kid.

“Tt, this is idiotic. I’m much taller than that.”

“Look at him, though,” he gestures, “I even got the you with katanas.”

Robin sighs dramatically, as if Nightwing is the obnoxious child, but he nears the toys. “An A-team you say?”

“Yeah! Basically just your favourite people.”

In one fell swoop, Robin levels all the action figures. (‘a repurposed move used to sweep/kick your opponent’s feet out from under them’ is one description) Nightwing looks shocked, but struggles to prevent a smile when his companion picks their miniature counterparts out of the mess and hands them to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All comments and kudos appreciated <3 thanks for sticking with me this far!!


	9. Collage food and recipes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I saw somewhere that Jason had a food blog. I could not agree more so here is my take. Is this a reference to the waffle chapter? No clue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note-> I actually dont know how to cook im so sorry I even had to get an outside opinion on this.
> 
> Does anyone know what a stock cube is?? At this point I'm too afraid to ask

Welcome to StreetRat’sCookBook, a blog where some dysfunctional twenty-something year old passes on his trade secrets. Only I have no trade, just a desperate pretence that everything is ok. Its crumbling rapidly but meh. I can pretend to be doing some productive shit. yAaayy!!!!!!!

Popular entries:

Everything is crumbling around me so I do an (Adam and) Eve and turn to apples (Apple crumble)

Pasta bake but with leftovers like three-day mac n’ cheese

Pot luck casserole in a pot (this is straight from England so if it gets any hate, populations will decrease)

No, anonymous commenter, I will not share my one-hit-wonder-caffeine-shot secrets. Here is a coffee cheesecake instead.

Lucky dip nachos- if we’re lucky It’ll be edible

If Jane Austen ate this, the flavour would overpower her sense and sensibilities and she would die. Rip

Is your brain functional? Yes? Then get out: So easy it's cheesy

Hey y’all, seeing how this is a blog and my prestigious readership have never actually seen me in person, I’ll just clear a few things up (before they become a mess [click here for a link to my attempts of making a caramel sundae ‘extravaganza’ where I definitely… um made some mistakes you guys can learn from] ). I’m what some people might call Hispanic. Yeah wow. Race. This isn’t a thing chill food-making blogs talk about. Well don’t worry I’m not about to get deep or anything- just watch out in the comments section because I’ll track you down and whipp your ass like cream if I hear any bullshit.

Anyway back to the point. I can’t say I’ve ever been to a quinceanera or whatever but when you’re a kid and your shitty white foster parents leave you to make dinner alone for a week and you’ve already built a toxic relationship with PB n' J sandwiches- well you’re gonna listen to what that cleaning lady who looks like you is talking about (I mean she had brown hair and a huge nose, but we’re talking skin colour here). I was ten and alone in the world, sometimes identifying with a random culture you know nothing about means something. Plus, that cleaning lady was super cool so, uh wisdom and all that.

Man, I’m just like those middle age white-mom-blogs. Well it’s cheaper then therapy so whatever.

Back to the quesadillas- oh yeah. Surprise?! That’s the no-brain meal of the month. An easy and warm snack or dish that a literal ten year-old could make. It’s tasty, simple and actually really flexible in its ingredients (not that it’s that big a deal, literally tortillas and cheese, Malissa).

Ingredients:  
Tortilla (some?)  
Cheese (like a few handfuls? Get the pre-shredded bag if you feel like splashing out)

So, you get a tortilla, which you can bulk buy pretty cheap at any store- even mix it up with a ‘healthy wholemeal’ type- and you sprinkle some grated cheese, mozzarella, cheddar whatever yellow/orange chemical gum you want. Maybe even a combination, tailored to suit your everyday desires. Then slap another tortilla on top (or even make a floppy taco with only one).

Now, to those folks with an oven, forget about a tray and toss it in there- you know where it’s at. 180 fan 60? Doesn’t matter, you don’t even need to preheat. The only goal is to melt the cheese and that’s pretty low standards even for me. (Try keep the cheese away from the edges though, or you’ll get a tasty little slow-moving dairy fountain sitting in your oven. Which is a great message to your annoying unofficial flatmate that keeps leaving their flame thrower in the shower needs to be sent, however.)

Those without an oven? No problemo, slap the raw quesadilla on a pan, flip after a hot minute and badabing, badaboom: La comida esta lista. Just don’t microwave cheese- for some reason it always ends up weird and crunchy for me. If you’re really living it rough, any heat source (be safe- I’m talking open fire not chemical waste) could probably do, but here’s a link to some food banks and this international Wayne Enterprises program in case.

And for those MasterChef’s out there, why not perform some further sacrilege and add a mix of some beans, tomatoes and mincemeat to the cheese? The only judgement worth listening to is your own- and my inner monologue sure as hell ain’t gonna be giving me any stellar reviews, dunno about you.

So yeah, pair with like apple juice or whatever and carry on with your day. Cutting it up like a pizza gives you some portable calories, but I’m not going to try stop you if burrito is more your style (that’s like level 18 difficulty though).

Ps cheese has protein in it so you’re welcome.

[quesadilla pictures]

…

Genuinely considering calling this tea. Its basically an infusion…right?

Feeling ill and can’t keep anything down? Wanna get better so you can punch that fucker right back in the stomach? Let me introduce you to my two best friends. Broth and bread.

Now I don’t know if you guys have noticed, but I am not a high effort sort of gal. I spend too much time being a Vigilante Crime Lord. Hahaha. Soooo this isn’t that fancy made-with-love kinda craft your mom used to make you as a kid. I warned you.

Ingredients:  
Stock cube (veg, chicken, squash. Your favourite flavour, try not to mix)  
Hot (boiling?) water  
Frozen vegetables if you can be fucked  
Pasta or rice…if you can be fucked

[Link to how to cook pasta]   
[Link to how to cook rice]

Fill a pot with water. Heat it. If the chef-feels hit you can try cook the frozen veg in there or just microwave them for like a minute (extra points if you stir at 30 second mark). Add veg with a half cube of stock, trust me that’s enough, and wait for it to dissolve.

Add optional carbs (rice or pasta) and boom! Eat with buttered toast or bread and try not to vomit. I believe in you.


	10. Aw shucks we forgot the nail polish -and the other type of face mask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I started with the concept of: Dick and Cass are under appreciated- they deserve some quality time together..... ha ha.. yeah then it spiralled from two siblings.. to three.. to THE WHOLE ENTIRE FAMILY BEING HAPPY
> 
> QUARANTINING IS HARD AND I MISS HUGS AND MY FRIENDS LEAVEMEALONE. :(
> 
> Also some Legally Blond and Shrek to *add little spice* ... but can you find the Incredibles reference?

It had been a hard week. Heck, a hard _month_. So, when Dick’s _‘Entry fee: a hug’_ doormat was an inch out of place, he chalked it up to Mrs Do'hanavan-from-down-the-hall’s stroller. This was Bludhaven after all, you couldn't expect everything to be tidy in a city like this. Also, his arms were really struggling to carry the heap of comfort food and companion treats he'd just bought.

It had been a long, hard, no good week. That said, following the jammed lock and crash of weekend-plans in ice cream all over the floor; it was starting to look less Dairy-ific. (dairy-riffic…horrific, Anyone?).

“Cass?” He said, not quite believing it. “What brings you to my extremely humble abode?” She rolled her eyes, daintily slipping off the chipped window sill and into his arms as if a magnetic force were pulling her. He automatically hugged her back. “Quick with The Entry Fee today, too.” He frowned, lowering the black hood of her grossly oversized hoodie “Is something wrong?”

She nestled closer into his arms, tucking her head further into the joint of his shoulder and said nothing. “Huh, difficult word day?” She nodded. “My years of training have led to precisely this moment,” he exclaimed dramatically, puffing up his chest like a proud robin. “Hours of silent stake outs with B and Damian have failed to make a brooding man out of me. They've only made me more prepared.” She tilted her head to look up at him, her smooth ink hair a curtain, drawn to reveal a gentle smile. “What say you, my brave companion through bleak times, shall we fill this dark silence of ours with scented candles, junk food and glorious chick flicks?”

“yes.” He answered her grin with his own.

…

Half way through Legally Blonde, A knock on the cardboard/duct tape window interrupted their couch-sprawling. “Yo wing-ding open up.” Cass ruffled her fellow couch potato’s hair and got up of the stained lump to answer the gracious call. Dick whined slightly at the loss of warmth and blanket, she shuffled on like a fluffy burrito. Thunder rumbled behind the incessant hiss of rain. A horrible ripping sound soon followed. “No way, Cass?” a pause. “I brought pizza?” Jason (soaking wet) entered, accompanied by a squelching sound. The wood floors barely balked at the sludge, they had seen much, much worse than a little water. He went straight to the mouldy shower as Cass returned with four glorious pizza boxes.

“He doesn’t have a fatal wound this time.” Dick mumbled. Cass shifted the pile of pizza boxes onto her hips and pointed to her temple. “Ah”, He nodded sagely “Concussion.” They both know the dangers of being concussed alone. 

“No.” A dramatic rendition of Adelle's 'Hello' warbled from the tiny bathroom: _'Hello, its me... I was wondering of after all these-'_ a choir of thumps "mother _trucker_ " managed to graciously put an end to it.

“Head Wound?” That would have been pretty unlikely given the helmet... She shook her head and sat in front of his stomach, as Dick was laying lengthways across the couch. (Sometimes it payed to be short).

"Dicky-boy I'm going to use your awful clothes."

"Mi case es su casa!" Dick replied.

"This is an apartment-not a house!"

"How do you say clothes in Spanish?"

"Mierda."

"Mi mierda es su mier- WAIT A DAMN MINUTE I KNOW HOW TO SPEAK SPANISH IT'S _ROPA._ " Evil cackling followed. "MI ROPA ES SU ROPA- Tu..tu TORTILLA DE MIERDA!" 

Cass gazed at the damp-stained ceiling, frowning frustratedly. Her brothers really knew how to squabble. She gently lay her hand over her heart and then used the other to sign' _Alone. Scary Thoughts_.'

“Oh,” Dick rubbed his face, suddenly somber. “Well, that makes two of us then.”

Cass set the pizzas down and tapped them three times. It was her way of saying: _‘three of us, now.’_ She opened the lid of the first pizza.

Dick let an enchanted “ _woah_ ” escape, then descended onto the foodstuffs. He was joined in munching not soon afterward, and the three siblings contentedly watched the queen that is Elle Woods ‘slay’ on a grainy screen. A quick squeeze round the shoulders from Jay didn't really cover The Entry Fee, but Dick was willing to let it slide. Just this once.

A spark of disagreement flared when _Shrek_ proceeded in the place of _Barbie Princess and the Pauper_ but everyone belted (or hummed in Cass’s case) smash mouth's All star, so all was well.

(There may or may not have been a promise of a Barbie marathon in the foreseeable future)

...

Among the sirens and cold wind, a wheelchair stealthily entered the apartment. It was hard to be heard under the sounds of snoring, but the gentle crinkle of a refrigerator being filled came dangerously close waking Cass. Barbara winced, but persisted. Dick really needed the salad and vegetables. Soon, the refrigerator light ceased to illuminate the sleeping bodies, and she joined the fearful Black Bat and her brothers on the couch. Dick smiled and went back to sleep.

...

Dawn revealed a new rug along with suspiciously dry floor and two more figures making up the mound of tired vigilantes: Tim and Damian. Having arrived an hour or so apart, their aggressive bickering was thankfully avoided. However, competitive as always, it seemed 'who can drool the most' was their latest contest (Alfred the cat, nestled deep in Damian's sweater was definitely winning). The two youngest brothers pointedly dozed on opposite sides of the couch, but the apartment was neutral territory, so the peace was allowed to continue.

…

By Breakfast, the strengthening morning light shone through a new pane of glass as Stephanie made brunch, humming Beyoncé's full discography. Duke was supervising as assistant head chef. Harper was using her malicious Blue-bird skills to squirrel away the waffle toppings. (In her defence she had brought them).

After an hour or so, Alfred gave up on distance-surveillance when Harley bloody Quinn showed up and tried to fry bacon. She failed, but in doing so replaced the fire alarm she'd ehhem, _disabled._ He rang the doorbell like a civilised gentleman bearing orange juice and vegan sausages should Ivy have made an appearance. She didn’t, but in her place sat a lively succulent and Damian readily devoured the sausages. Selina hesitantly followed soon after, to to the pleasure of Alfred the cat. (A little oil was also quickly delivered to the jamming lock). Tim almost got stabbed when he ate half of the hash browns but peace was restored, in a way, when the age old _'For Diana's sake Steph, stop calling them pancakes with abs'_ debate was ignited. Luke Fox was met with a celebrated arrival as he too, came in through the front door, dragging a very disgruntled Bruce Wayne after him- whose phone mysteriously disappeared at the same time a Lex-corp official ended up with a canceled meeting and refund for his private jet ticket to Gotham. 

Soon, the racket of a family brunch reached all the way to metropolis (and some very super ears). What eventually followed was a strict enforcement of The Entry Fee by all parties present, and a surprise visit from the Amazonian Princess.

...

It had been a tough week, proceeding a no-good month which promised an ogre of a tough year ahead. Somehow Dick didn’t mind. Crowding around his slightly less crappy apartment, having brunch with his family, he had a realisation: the greater good needed acrobats and justice and couch-potatoes just like it needed chick-flicks and comfort food and hugs and an anarchy, an absolute violent cacophony of a brunch.

This moment in time proved that his wonderfull family, well, it was the greatest-damn-good he was ever gonna _need._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaay a happy ending with, I think, every singe character I've actually written about !! ( no bat coooow :,( )
> 
> Oooof. 
> 
> Hopefully you take Dick's advice and go easy on yourself- bc rn is really tough and a lot of us aren't as lucky as the Batfam in having so many lovely people to care for us. In the end (I don't think I said it well enough up there so imma say it now) survival is an accomplishment and we all deserve a junk-food weekend. The greater-good can be something as simple as your well being.. right? YEAH.
> 
> I will be implementing The Entry Fee from now on so if anyone can find/make/sellme a mat like Dick's hit me up xx


End file.
